


Will You?

by hato



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3941263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hato/pseuds/hato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I’m not a normal humans. I ams a god...</i>
</p>
<p>And just like any god, of any time or place, Skwisgaar requires sacrificial tributes in order to remain on his divine throne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You?

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Brendon Small owns these people. I’m just playing with them.   
> **Warnings:** Swearing, introspection, non-standard pairing, etc...  
>  **Inspired by:** _Young and Beautiful_ by Lana del Rey.

_I’m not a normal humans. I ams a god…_

And just like any god, of any time or place, Skwisgaar requires sacrificial tributes in order to remain on his divine throne.

Desire.

Adoration.

Admiration. 

Devotion.

The groupies desire him. Clearly. Every spare moment spent kissing, licking, fingering and fucking the never ending line-up of easy pickings. Skanks and hustlers. Models and fry cooks. Lolitas and cougars. All gagging to be near him in the dark corners backstage or writhing beneath him on his whisper soft sheets. They want his body here and now and his notch on their proverbial bedpost for all of eternity. 

The fans adore him. Of course. A thrashing mass of black and white and blood red stretching to the horizon. A million voices screaming his name in lustful requiem. Blurred faces at the front of the stage with gaping mouths and torn clothing, all wails and wounds and destructive need. Millions more desperately collecting any viable scrap he throws their way. They are perfectly willing to beg, borrow, steal or kill for the tiniest piece of him they can lay claim to. 

The band admires him. Naturally. He is the melody. Driving riffs and painful chords weaving between the heartbeat and the voice. Stitching them together in the most brutal act of creation. His bandmates thrive on his musical intuition and Offdensen respects his talent. Pickles enjoys his ability to party. Nathan appreciates his haughty indifference to everyone around him. Murderface envies his every aspect. They rely on his ability to maintain Dethklok at a highly profitable and addictive level. 

Toki is devoted to him. Oh yes. Even before he stepped into that warehouse so many years ago. Underground gigs. Scratchy demos. Whispers and glances and stolen CDs. Their union was years in the making and cemented the moment he grudgingly accepted the defeated boy into Dethklok. It is a sentient thing forever swelling about them, warping their interactions and perceptions, invading every aspect of their lives. Progressing. Maturing. Strengthening. Connecting them at their cores. 

Even now, in this very moment, he can sense Toki on stage behind him. The boy mesmerized by the long line of his body as he leans into the solo, entranced by the complex series of notes wailing from the speakers. Distracted and sweating and just barely keeping up.

He can’t see Toki, but he knows. 

Knows the boy hasn’t looked away from him since the moment the vocals died away and Nathan stepped aside. Because Nathan may have Toki’s body in his bed, Toki’s heart while he sings. 

But Skwisgaar has Toki’s soul. Entirely. Eternally. 

When he no longer has his pick of bed partners. When album sales falter. When they each go their own way and Dethklok is nothing but a fond memory.

Toki will still be standing behind him, with those wide eyes and determined lopsided grins. Radiating pure, unadulterated devotion.

When all this comes to an end, as all things must. 

Toki will still worship only him. 

 

**end**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who reads, kudos' and comments!


End file.
